


Shore

by cynicalwerewolf



Series: Life in a Fairy Tale [3]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-15 14:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynicalwerewolf/pseuds/cynicalwerewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>On seashore far a green oak towers, </i><br/>And to it with a gold chain bound, <br/>A .learned cat whiles away the hours <br/>By walking slowly round and round. <br/>To right he walks, and sings a ditty; <br/>To left he walks, and tells a tale.... 
</p>
<p>
  <i>What marvels there! A mermaid sitting </i><br/>High in a tree, a sprite, a trail <br/>Where unknown beasts move never seen by <br/>Man's eyes, a hut on chicken feet, <br/>Without a door, without a window, <br/>An evil witch's lone retreat; <br/>The woods and valleys there are teeming <br/>With strange things.... Dawn brings waves that, gleaming, 
</p>
<p>
  <i>Over the sandy beaches creep, </i><br/>And from the clear and shining water <br/>Step thirty goodly knights escorted <br/>By their Old Guardian, of the deep <br/>An ancient dweller.... There a dreaded <br/>And hated tsar is captive ta'en; <br/>There, as all watch, for cloud banks headed, <br/>Across the sea and o'er a plain, <br/>A warlock bears a knight. There, weeping, <br/>A princess sits locked in a cell, <br/>And Grey Wolf serves her very well…
</p>
<p><i>Ruslan and Ludmilla</i>, Alexander Pushkin</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dedication: To a Wolf-maid

**Author's Note:**

> The final part to this trilogy, based on the poem _Ruslan and Ludmilla_ with pieces from _Swan Lake_. All warnings from previous parts apply.

It was still amazing to Miles that they all had survived this long with so few losses. His smile was bittersweet as he watched his grandchildren, _their_ grandchildren play on the shores of the lake, Nosey purring on his lap.

“Deep thoughts?”

Miles didn’t need to turn and see who had spoken. He never needed to, these days. “Yes, Gregor. I was just thinking about the children.”

“And Taura,” Gregor seated himself beside his foster brother, reaching out to give Nosey a brief scratch on the head.

“Yes,” Miles whispered. It still hurt to remember his wife of seventeen years, dead of the strain the alterations forced on a child had placed on Taura’s human-born body. “I wish she could have seen the grandchildren.”

Gregor didn’t say any of what people who had only heard of Taura’s life and death did: that Miles had done everything possible to give Taura a long life, that she had lived longer than anyone had suspected, that she’d at least seen their first child grown.

Instead, he addressed the underlying concern, “She made her decision. And she found the results worth far more than she paid.”

“Did she know, though?” Miles’s worst habit was second-guessing himself. “Did she know that she made the right decision?”

It was Nosey’s turn. The orange fae cat twisted onto her back to slap Miles. _‘Stop,’_ she said, with a slight growl, _‘Joyous Today knew that her life would be shorter than yours, but your actions and hers made certain that she had a far longer and more pleasant life than she had any expectation of otherwise.’_

After a brief pause, Miles said, “Thank you, Nosey. And she wouldn’t have wanted me to wallow. Which is what I’m doing.”

“At least you recognize it,” Gregor said. He stood, saying, “I think our offspring are waiting for their granddas to finish reminiscing. Or wallowing as the case may be.”

Even with the strains that aging had placed on his body, Gregor still stood with ease. Miles waited until Nosey made her way up to his shoulder before he located his cane and stood himself. Looking up, he surprised a guilty look on Gregor’s face.

“Stop that,” Miles said sharply. “If you won’t let me wallow, I’m not going to grant you the same indulgence.”

“I should have agreed to her terms sooner,” Gregor whispered.

“Do I need to beat you around the head with the cane, or just the facts,” Miles muttered, before saying in no uncertain terms, “I personally feel that it beat the alternatives. Alternatives which you know far too well. And if you don’t wish to explain these alternatives to the grandchildren we’d better stop talking about this whole business. They’re getting ready to come over right now.”

Gregor sighed, and said, “I know there was nothing else I could do. I just wish…”

“I know,” Miles said, “We both have those sorts of regrets, but the children don’t need to know so soon.”

With a nod and a mental shrug, Gregor shunted his guilt to a far corner of his mind. With Nosey’s help, Miles did the same. The regrets weren’t needful, and there was so much of life yet to be enjoyed.


	2. Prologue: The Dream of the Seer and the Spy

_A tall tower in a twisted wood. A stream of water transforming into silk…no, not silk, a spider web. Not a cobweb, either, but an elaborate construction made just that day._

_Hanging from the web were sets of shackles. If he concentrated, he could almost see those imprisoned. Feel their eyes upon him. Those captives whispered ‘Not another prize. Two more. The Cats and the Crowned Wolf join us tonight. Winged and fused and cherished. A veritable feast.”_

_Behind the web, as though looking through bars, fire stood out against a still, dark horizon. The fire flared silver, throwing the horizon into contrasting darkness._

_A cat screamed._

* * *

Duv woke panting.

He still had only marginal control over his abilities. Not enough control that he could stop a vision, but enough that he could delay one if having it would be dangerous.

And to think he owed it to a Vorkosigan.

Not to say he might not have eventually made his way to another spirit-blooded mentor, but after his father’s spell had been broken the visions he had been unable to remember had poured into his head.

There had been far more than he had even suspected.

Nosey had done what she could. But Duv thought he would go mad from the force of the visions given free rein.

Then Miles had returned for his familiar…

* * *

Duv feared touching his books now, especially without the presence of a meddling fae cat who wasn’t even his. While they had been his refuge for his whole life, now getting ‘lost’ in one became far too literal. All too often now if he began reading, he would find himself mentally viewing what the book described.

Even when the topic wasn’t violent or disturbing in and of itself, the sensation was troubling. And dangerous at times. His cottage would have burned down one time if Nosey hadn’t clawed him to jar him out of the vision.

The orange and gold cat wasn’t nearby right now. She was probably out getting her own supper and talking with Vorkosigan.

“No need for her to be outside to talk to me, although you’re right about her supper,” Duv jumped, on turning around he saw Miles standing in the doorway. “Sorry. I made better time than we thought, or she would have told you I was coming.”

As Miles stepped into the room, Duv said, “Thank you. Even though I’m not certain I’ll survive the result, it was worth it.”

Miles frowned briefly before the confusion cleared, “Oh, I’m not the person you need to thank, although I’ll pass it on if I see him. Mark managed to demolish a good portion of his chest with a fireball. Well, someone did.”

To Duv’s thinking, that was in many ways better, that one of his father’s greatest victims should be the one to deliver the killing blow.

After a brief pause, Miles spoke once more, “And I have a possible solution for your current problems. Both Nosey and I think it will work, but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“What is it?” Duv asked.

“I think your problem is due to your control never being allowed to develop. It’s rare for this to happen to spirit-blooded, but not unheard of. Most cases I’ve heard of involve wind-spirit hybrids. And I know of a wind-spirit hybrid who might be willing to teach you. If he doesn’t, you’re no worse off than before, but I think he’ll be persuadable.”

Miles paused, before continuing, “You’ll have to move to Barrayar proper, though, if he does. His duties keep him in country most of the time.”

Duv was beginning to see where this was going, “Who is this man?” He managed to keep his tone level.

“Simon Illyan,” was the response.

* * *

Truth be told, it hadn’t taken long for Duv to decide. Everything his father had told him about Vorkosigan’s Hound (Miles had choked at that thought, Duv didn’t ask) meant that Duv thought the Barrayaran spymaster was probably a good and loyal man. Anyone who had gotten the particular invectives Adrian Galen had heaped on the Imperial Spymaster was probably far better than Galen.

Besides, the visions weren’t letting up, even with Nosey’s presence. She could only do so much because she wasn’t Duv’s familiar, and Duv knew madness was waiting.

* * *

Simon woke with a start, the cat’s angry cry still echoing through his skull. He didn’t often have portentous dreams, but this one was difficult to wake up from. It felt as though the dark forces that had spawned the dream did not wish to let him regain consciousness.

He wished he could prevent what had occurred but Simon never received visions of the future. The wind brought him whispers of current events, occasionally tales of things past, but never spoke of the future.

The visions had been coming more often, and as they came with greater frequency his access to human magics faded. It happened at times that a spirit-human hybrid would become more spirit-like as they aged, particularly first generation hybrids. He might have to go find his father’s clan, especially if the Longing came upon him.

Fortunately, Miles had inadvertently found him a suitable replacement as Imperial Spymaster in that event. Miles’s accidents tended to snowball positive results.

Simon smiled as he anticipated the response from various quarters.

Not that he hadn’t shared the initial response. The scholarly son of Ser Galen had not been what anyone had expected, but Miles had his parents’ ability to find the people best suited for a duty and putting them into that position.

And then making others accept said decision over any objection.

* * *

Lady Alys let herself into Simon’s quarters as silent as Mistwalker could be. She knew that he and Duv Galeni would be deeply engaged in training, but Simon needed to know.

Instead, she found them deep in the analysis of a shared dream. Both men looked up when she opened the door.

Simon asked, “What’s wrong.”

Appreciating Simon’s perceptiveness, Alys said, “Miles and Gregor were abducted on the way to the Cetagandan summit. The Council of Counts is in uproar. They believe that it was the Cetagandans.”

“It’s not,” Duv said with great certainty.

At Alys’s look, he explained, “Some of the chained figures in our mutual dream were ghem soldiers and ladies. While I have no doubt that the haut and ghem leadership are ruthless, particularly with their soldiers, from what Miles has said they are far less willing to sacrifice the women of the ghem.”

“Not that it will prevent the Council from being restive,” Simon said. “There are factions which will, in all likelihood, aim for a retaliatory strike against the Cetagandans. And not all of them will recognize themselves as rebellious.”

Under his breath he muttered what Alys, and from what she could gather, Duv, whole heartedly agreed with, “I wish Gregor would marry.” A clear line of succession, even if it were just to reconfirm Aral as Lord Regent, would be most useful when disaster struck. Like now.

Just then, one of the Imperial spies entered the room in a tearing hurry disguised as a purposeful walk. As soon as the door shut behind him, he said, “Captain Illyan. Lady Vorpatril.”

“What is it, Demyanov?” 

“Lord Vorpatril has just left the Palace to search for Lord Vorkosigan and the Emperor.”

“Damn the boy,” Simon muttered.

Alys agreed with the sentiment, although it would be most indecorous to do so out loud.

Instead, she told Simon, “That is not the only difficulty. Mark did not return with the Armsman who brought us the intelligence. He appears to have decided upon launching his own rescue mission.”

While Mark did not directly affect the political situation, his position as Miles’s heir to the Vorkosigan Countship and Aral’s son made his decision to leave a poor one. Especially as Aral would already be worried about his older son. If something happened to Mark as well he and Cordelia would be inconsolable.

Simon frowned before shaking his head, “What has happened we cannot change. All we can do is try and keep things together until we get more news.”


End file.
